


J is for Juice

by Janieshi



Series: Alphabet [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Babysitting, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieshi/pseuds/Janieshi
Summary: In which Team Mustang is pitted against their most formidable foe yet - a distraught toddler.





	J is for Juice

_Juice /jo͞os/noun - the liquid obtained from or present in fruit or vegetables._

* * *

 

“Okay. Run that by me _one_ more time,” Breda said, frowning at his best friend. Havoc just sighed.

“Hughes got called into some emergency meeting. His wife had some spa day thing planned today, and their usual babysitter bailed,” Havoc explained.

“And so he decided that you were the best option available? Seriously?”

“I was the _only_ option available,” Havoc replied, mournfully. “Everyone else he could’ve asked had to go to the meeting, too. And he went on and _on_ and **_on_** about how lucky I was to have the privilege.”

Breda chuckled.

“Sounds about right,” he noted.

Both men turned their attention to the other occupant of the office. Elysia blinked up at them with impossibly green eyes and a cherubic smile.

“Doose?” she chirped in a hopeful tone.

“Er,” Havoc said, stealing a glance at Breda, who merely shrugged. “I dunno what that is, kiddo,” he said, feeling helpless.

Elysia frowned (adorably) and tried again.

“Want _doose_ ,” she said. Remembering what her mother was always telling her to say, she quickly added. “Pwease?”

“I, er...I don’t think so,” Havoc replied, still wondering what the hell she was trying to ask for. Dews? Was that someone’s name, maybe? Could be a neighbor, or a playmate, or one of her parents’ friends?

As these thoughts darted through his head, the toddler’s lower lip wobbled ominously, and those enormous green eyes started to fill with tears.

“Oh, crap! Come on kid, don’t cry, it’s okay!” Havoc babbled. Breda, who up until now had been content to watch his friend struggle, abruptly reached over and smacked his shoulder.

“Don’t swear in front of the kid, you idiot,” he admonished.

“Then _help_ me!” Havoc hissed back. Distracted, Elysia looked between the two of them with wary interest.

“I’m no good with rug-rats, man,” Breda protested, holding up his hands and taking a quick step backwards.

“Well, neither am I!”

“What the hel- _heck_ ,” Breda amended, shooting a quick glance at the little girl. “Are we supposed to do?”

Havoc sighed theatrically.

“Fucked if I know—ow!” he yelped.

“ _Language_ , moron,” Breda snapped.

“Geez, you didn’t have to _hit_ me,” Havoc grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “Where’s the Lieutenant when you need her, anyway?”

“Like she’ll automatically know what to do with a kid because she’s a woman? Don’t let her catch you saying that,” Breda laughed, already imagining the fallout from such a thoughtless statement. Havoc glared at him.

“That’s not what I meant!” he retorted. “It’s just, I know she’s met the kid before, so maybe _she’d_ have some idea of what the kid wants.”

Breda chanced another look at the kid, who was watching the two men bicker while solemnly sucking her thumb. Catching his eye, she abruptly removed the soggy appendage from her mouth and tried again.

“Doose, pwease?” she lisped.

“Er...”

“See?” Havoc whispered. “What does it _want_?”

“Pwease?” Elysia repeated plaintively, eyes going watery again.

“Think it could be a toy?” Havoc wondered. “Maybe she means moose. Or goose…they make all sorts of animal plushies for kids, don’t they?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Breda said doubtfully. “Didn’t Hughes leave you one of those bag-thingies? You know, like moms always carry around, with toys and diapers and stuff in ‘em? If it’s a toy…”  Havoc’s face lit up.

“Hey, yeah! Then maybe it’s in that bag!” he cried. “Now, where’d he put it…”

“Hi, guys!” Fuery said as he walked into the office, with Falman on his heels. “Why didn’t you come meet us for lunch, today?”

“Hi!” Elysia greeted him cheerfully. Fuery, and Falman behind him, froze and stared at her in surprise.

Havoc found himself explaining the situation once again, as Elysia carefully writhed her way off the chair she’d been sitting on and toddled across to Fuery.

“Hi!” she said again, insistent.

“Er…” Fuery stuttered. “Hi?” Pleased with her success, Elysia turned to Falman next.

“Hi!” she said brightly.

“Hello,” Falman replied cautiously. Satisfied, the child beamed at them both.

“At least we can all understand _that_ word,” Havoc sighed.

“Toddlers are known to speak in disjointed phrases and mispronounced words that typically only their own immediate family would understand,” Falman explained solemnly. “So it’s natural that you wouldn’t completely comprehend the child’s rudimentary communication without prolonged exposure to her.”

“Yes, thank you, you walking dictionary,” Havoc said, rolling his eyes. “But that still doesn’t tell me what it is that she _wants_.”  

All four men turned to face the toddler.

“Want _doose_ ,” Elysia stated, slowly and clearly, as if she’d finally realized that she was dealing with a bunch of morons.

“Deuce?” Fuery repeated, bewildered. “What d’you suppose that is?”

“That’s what we’ve trying to figure out,” Havoc said. “She keeps saying it over and over.”

 “In Cretan, ‘deuce’ is the word for the number ‘two,’” Falman informed them.

“Yeah, and?” Breda retorted, rolling his eyes. “Why would she be asking for a number? In another language, no less?”

“People use it in cards all the time, you know, like ‘deuces wild,’” Fuery supplied, unhelpfully.

“I think she’s a little young for poker, kid,” Breda said, trying and failing to keep his scorn out of his voice.

Fuery, who’d realized exactly how stupid that sounded the moment the words left his mouth, ducked his head, flushing. Havoc clapped a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. They all said dumb stuff, sometimes, and Havoc more often than most. So he was no stranger to shame.

Falman, who had been patiently waiting for the chance to complete his original thought, cleared his throat quietly.

“Colloquially, ‘deuce’ is often used to refer to one’s bowel movements,” he ventured. “Perhaps she’s in need of the facilities.”

“Hey, you might be on to something!” Havoc said excitedly.

“Is she even potty-trained, yet?” Breda frowned. “Although, I suppose she could be in need of a diaper change…”

Elysia’s eyes darted from face to face, frustration mounting.

“Dooooose,” she whimpered. “Me want _doose_.”

And then, with startling suddenness, she began to cry in earnest. Tears streaming down her chubby cheeks, she sobbed piteously as the men blinked at her in surprise.

“Doose, doose, doose!!” she wailed, stamping her tiny feet and working herself up into full tantrum mode.

“What on _earth_ is going on in here?” Hawkeye demanded sharply. As one, her teammates whirled to face her, expressions varying from relief to faint apprehension. Mustang was standing beside her, looking vaguely concerned.

“Oh, thank God, Lieutenant, Colonel – you’ve gotta help us!” Havoc cried, all but throwing himself at Hawkeye’s feet.

“In my opinion, the hysterical two-year-old is the only person in need of assistance, here,” she retorted, fixing each of them with her sternest glare.

“I’m more concerned about the opinion of said hysterical two-year-old’s devoted _father_ , who should here any second. He was right behind us,” Mustang added, glancing over his shoulder.

Fuery clapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to muffle the ear-splitting squalls, and Breda was slowly backing away from the crying child as if she was rabid dog poised to attack. Falman had taken his courage in both hands, and actually approached the girl.

“Er…there, there,” he was saying, crouched awkwardly beside her. “Please stop crying, now. Your father will be here soon.”

“Lieutenant, _please help me_!” Havoc begged, turning to the only rational person in sight. “If Hughes comes back while she’s still crying, he’ll…he’ll…Well, I don’t know what he’ll do to me, but it won’t be good! Please make her stop!”

Hawkeye sighed.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Nothing!” Havoc swore, and the others echoed his denial.

“Then why is she crying?” Mustang wanted to know.

“I don’t know!” his subordinates cried.

“She just lost it, sir, honest!” Fuery interjected, eyes wide and earnest.

“Doooooooose!” Elysia howled.

“That’s the only thing she’ll say, Lieutenant,” Falman explained. “She keeps saying that word over and over, and none of us can make heads or tails of it.”

Hawkeye stared at him for a second in disbelief.

“Good lord, no wonder the poor kid’s crying,” Mustang sighed. Uncomprehending, Falman frowned at him.

“Sir?” 

Without another word, Mustang marched over to Havoc’s desk, where an overstuffed diaper bag was perched on the far corner, on top of a stack of unfinished paperwork. Rummaging through it for a moment, he finally unearthed a bottle of amber liquid and a small, bright pink plastic cup with a lid and handles on either side.

On seeing the cup, Elysia abruptly stopped wailing, although tears were still running freely down her face. Hiccupping, she watched with wide, damp eyes as Mustang calmly opened the bottle and carefully poured its contents into the sippy cup. When he turned toward her again, Elysia’s hands were eagerly outstretched.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Mustang said, handing the cup to the sniffling toddler. “I hope you like apple.”

“Doose! Doose!” the girl crowed. Belatedly recalling her manners, she offered her new favorite person a brilliant smile. “Tank ewe!”

Mustang smiled back at her.

“You’re welcome!”

Having watched the entire exchange in stunned silence, Breda, Falman and Fuery exchanged mortified looks.

“I can’t believe it,” Breda groaned. “All that time…”

“It’s so obvious, now,” Fuery mumbled, flushing.

“Yes, we really ought to have considered that at once,” Falman agreed, shaking his head.

“Wait, what? What just happened? What should we have considered?” Havoc asked, still dumbfounded.

“ _Juice_ , you idiot. She’s been asking for her _juice_ ,” Breda said wearily.

“Doose!” Elysia agreed happily.

“ _Honestly_ ,” Hawkeye huffed as she knelt down and gently cleaned Elysia’s tear-stained face with a soft handkerchief. “What else could it possibly have been?”

No one answered, although Hawkeye noticed that they were studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.

“It just goes to show, gentlemen, that you have no idea how to please a lady,” Mustang said loftily, dropping into Breda’s chair as if he owned it.

“You’re sayin’ that the key to a woman’s heart is _apple_ _juice_?” Breda said sarcastically.

“Well, treating a woman to drinks and a nice meal sure as hell never hurts,” he retorted. “Although I was actually referring to the talent of _listening_. Communication is a valuable tool!”

“Though it pains me to admit it…the Colonel makes a valid point,” Hawkeye sighed.

Her teammates mulled that over in silence for a moment, while Elysia took advantage of Hawkeye’s proximity to study her face.

“Pwitty,” she said reverently, petting Hawkeye’s cheek with a sticky hand. “Want doose?” she offered, shaking her sippy cup in what was clearly meant to be a tempting manner.

“No, thank you,” Hawkeye replied soberly. “But you go ahead.”

The toddler burbled at her in a cheerful way before turning to make the same offer to her new favorite person, who obligingly pulled her into his lap when she requested “up-up!”

“We’re never gonna live this down, are we?” Havoc asked sadly, after a moment.

“No. No you are not,” Mustang assured him as he gently bounced the child perched triumphantly on his knee.

“No!” Elysia crowed.

Havoc hid his face in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to SoulErrorArwich, who suggested the word Juice.


End file.
